let sleeping devils lie
by tysunkete
Summary: AU. Short. Written for kaichu-ichigen on tumblr. If there was a list of the life choices Kanda regrets, 'refusing to sleep on the floor' would probably top the cake, or maybe it'd be after 'realising you have feelings for an idiot at 5 a.m. in the morning with an /uncomfortable problem/'. LaviYuu.


_Title:_ let sleeping devils lie  
><em>Fandom:<em> DGM  
><em>CharacterPairings_: Kanda/Lavi  
><em>Warnings:<em> Short. Because I'm lazy :  
><em>Summary<em>: AU. Short. Written for kaichu-ichigen on tumblr. If there was a list of the life choices Kanda regrets, 'refusing to sleep on the floor' would probably top the cake, or maybe it'd be after 'realising you have feelings for an idiot at 5 a.m. in the morning with an /uncomfortable problem/'. LaviYuu.

_Notes: _So I found out that an experiment I was working on for a month is useless because of one stupid mistake I made and I needed to keep myself in denial, so I typed this up real quick.

This was requested in June by kaichu-ichigen (along with like, two more of you whom I haven't written anything for I'm sorry I'm trash) for a laviyuu college AU with any of the dgm headcanons from her tumblr, so I picked:

_ kandayuu: modern au where kanda and lavi are roomies and somehow b/c lavi is a sleepy bby sometimes he falls asleep on kanda's bed sort of accidentally and then kanda's all well this /is/ my bed and just squishes in there with him and then lavi hogs all of the covers ;v;_

_ kaichu-ichigen: youre gonna make me go into cardiac arrest ;a;_  
><em>its all fun and games till kanda finds out lavi gets handsy in his sleep<em>  
><em>he probably should have realized when he saw lavi passed out on the kitchen table hugging a cereal box, but now he is trapped in his own bed with lavi violently clinging to his waist<em>

I apologise this took so long, I have no excuses. At all. ;v;

* * *

><p><span><em>Present time—4<em>_th__ February 2014. 5: 03 a.m._

When Kanda wakes up at 5 am in the morning with a hand pressed against his crotch, he mentally erases the top entry on his list of regretful life choices and rewrites this particular moment into the blank. To his credit, he does not freak out, but that's mostly because he had also woken up two hours ago with some very curious hands molesting his abs and chest.

Let's start with some background.

Kanda is a freshman in university studying Botany. He plans to move into the mountains to get as far away from his adopted father as soon as possible, but then he's obligated to graduate with a degree first—hence he chooses plants, since it'd probably help him survive the wilderness. And that Kanda maybe does likes plants, so he might settle with owning a nursery someday.

In any case, he's forced to study for three more years, thankfully away from his house—first years are guaranteed a place in the college hostel, and he had immediately taken the option to get away from his old man. Except, he did not exactly anticipate being stuck with a roommate (there are en suite rooms, such bullshit) and the said roommate ended up being…well.

Kanda doesn't want to say the other is…_bad_, but, yes, the other is really fucking _bad_.

To start with, his roommate looks like an idiot. He has hair in the colour of blood that is apparently, not dyed (it's been six months and Kanda hasn't seen dye bottles yet). He has one good eye and covers the other with a ridiculous leather eyepatch that _does not_, however the other may suggest, do anything for his non-existent mysterious sexy poise. He has the most obnoxious laugh and the weirdest accent and a nasal tone that gyrates on Kanda's nerves and the fucking idiot clings to him nearly every waking moment like they're best friends, and the worst part is, the damn idiot probably is.

Even though they have absolutely no classes together (the guy takes history) and they have absolutely no common interests either (or maybe Kanda has no likes, the other has too many) but they somehow hang out at night and on weekends and it's probably just Kanda's fault that he's antisocial and has no other "friends" per say that he would call to go hang out with. Lenalee doesn't count, because she calls him.

Kanda hates small talk and conversations and anything that wastes his time really, but all of his time ends up being wasted _anyway_ with the redhead. He can't count the number of times they've gotten into mind blowingly stupid situations because the other is an _idiot_, can Kanda not stress that enough, like being stuck outside their room for two days because _someone_ managed to lose both their keys—like having a pizza throwing competition at their wall—like replacing all the milk in the common fridge with glue—like setting off the fire alarm and waking the whole damn building at 4 a.m. because one special asshole thought it'd be funny to attempt to microwave rotten tomatoes. With that much stupidity that they end up together in (in Kanda's defense, he's the voice of reason that never gets heard), it's inevitable that he kind of maybe cares (just a tiny bit!) for the retard who's prone to messing everything up despite having the highest grade average ever with zero effort.

Which might be the reason leading on to why his dick is hard beyond measure and there's a hand that is not his palming it.

The sexual arousal is nothing new actually—or rather, Kanda's made peace with it two hours ago after a bit of freaking out. He's quickly adaptable like that. But he does have a problem with this tightening feeling that's growing in his chest and the fact that he's just getting even harder the more aware he is of the arms that are encircling his waist. And the chest that's pressed to his back. And the shallow breathing that's against his neck. He's not exactly thrilled that he's been stuck like this for the past two hours complete with the boner to cut steel.

There's a low hum that breathes near his ear and some shifting occurs—fingers slide at the edge of his pants and brushes across the stripe of bare skin. He shivers involuntarily and jerks the moment he bites hard on his lip to prevent the moan that's simmering in his throat. Fuck, his neck is blazing hot by now and he can't fucking breathe right.

He tries to wriggle but he's stuck in the suction tight embrace—he's tried a lot of the wriggling and the jabbing and elbowing those two hours ago and he's still in the same damn position, but there's always no harm trying for the nth time. But the more he squirms the more he's aware he's basically rubbing his ass against the other's hips _and_ the bolder the hand moves; it caresses his hipbone and dips down the front of his boxers—and f-_fuckk_—it's so hot down there he's gonna—

He's _not_, Kanda thinks viciously, biting his lip harder to muffle the stuttered gasp that threatens to slip past his mouth. He's also not going to touch himself to jack off with his fucking roommate plastered to his back, with the said person being the cause of it all. The other might just wake up and proceed to laugh his ass off, because that's the kind of asshole the redhead is.

Not that Kanda wouldn't do the same, except with more judgement and less obvious chortling.

But then the other would never be found in the middle of the night/morning jacking off to _him_ because while yeah, he's attractive as fuck—he knows it, nineteen years of this face and body he definitely knows it—his roommate is solely interested in breasts and vaginas given by the porn mags the other stashes (badly) under his bed.

Whereas for Kanda himself, it's kind of a grey area. He doesn't think of what he's attracted to much since he's not really attracted to anything—or anyone in particular; he definitely doesn't have a type nor is there a certain body feature that gets his attention. His roommate thinks he's asexual, but that's only because he isn't stupid enough to get caught jacking off, which he does time to time, because he's a _normal young adult_.

But he's digressing. So maybe he _might_ be sexually attracted to the sleeping redhead, okay, fine, that's so two hours ago. Like literally, it was two hours ago when he came upon the conclusion.

That's fine, that's all fine—but it's also _not_.

It's not when he's almost giving into temptation to grab that hand on his crotch to rub it harder against himself. It's not when he can almost imagine the redhead licking the back of his neck and sucking it and doing a lot of other inappropriate things that he really needs to bleach his stupid fucking brain that's continuing its merry way down a very dirty gutter. His heart beat is thundering louder and louder with each desperate swallow he's making despite his dry throat. And he's getting even harder at the mere thought of it all, so much that the front of his boxers are starting to feel sticky.

This is bad. This is really bad.

It's bad because he's not going to be able to look at the idiot in the eye in the morning and it's going to be _weird_ just because he can't control his dick or his brain or his feelings and no matter how clingy the redhead is, he'll get fed up at Kanda's cold treatment eventually and Kanda will never see that retarded grin or hear that annoying butchering of his first name and he'll _leave_, and Kanda's going to be _alone _again, and there won't be anyone to make him less bored or distract him when he _needs_ it and—

And.

And.

And _fuck_, Kanda freezes.

He has feelings.

_Feelings_.

…

….

About the idiot.

_Fuck_, Kanda repeats vaguely. _Oh fuck_.

* * *

><p><span><em>Two hours earlier—4<em>_th__ February 2014. 3: 11 a.m._

Kanda wakes up approximately three hours after he closes his eyes. _This is bullshit_, is his first thought, because he's really fucking tired. _Fuck_, is his second, because he realises why he woke up, and that's thanks to an uncomfortable boner straining against his boxers. It's not unusual that he's woken up hard—morning wood, it happens—but it's currently 3 fucking a.m.. So what if it's morning, it's morning at an ungodly hour that his brain shouldn't be functioning at.

_What the actual fuck_, is his third thought, because a warm palm is sliding so far up his chest that his shirt is practically half up. And then Kanda can't remember what words that echo into his mind after, because it scrambles like fried eggs in a microwave.

His roommate has his arms tight around him, hugging him like some stuffed animal with more inappropriate groping. Seriously, why the hell is the redhead touching his chest and his…—nipples?

Bloody hell.

Without a second thought he rams his elbow backwards intending it to _hurt_, but other than a vague noise, those arms are still tight around him. Frowning, he tries to shift or at least to turn his head around but he can't. All he can see in the darkness is the glow of his digital alarm clock and the vague outline of the other's messy bed. He waits a couple more seconds, feeling more awake with each passing tick, before trying the ramming elbow thing again.

This time, his roommate makes some sort of a whine and scoots even closer, effectively eliminating any semblance of a gap between their bodies. Also, the palm that's touching his chest is joined by _another_ hand; this one trickles down to his abdomen where it traces the curves of his muscles.

Kanda is _not_ ticklish—but does find out at this moment that the light touches are stirring something hot in his groin, which brings his attention back to the fact that his cock is hard. What the hell.

Okay. It's not actually a big deal right? Touching, unwarranted or not, does _things_ to a normal young adult, it's basically biology. He's just responding to stimulation, or something.

Whatever.

It's uncomfortable but he can ignore it. He tries the wriggling in the attempt to break loose of the octopus around him for the last time but it doesn't work. With a grumbled sigh he shuts his eyes again and tries to go back to sleep. Unfortunately it just makes him more tuned to touches on his bare body and also the uncomfortable problem below. His back is being pressed against some pretty firm muscles too—okay, wait, back the fuck up.

His roommate doesn't work out like he does, but the other does play a couple of sports and burns his hyper energy doing sit ups or some shit like that. Maybe. The redhead is taller than him too—just slightly—so there's the relatively good physique. Kanda's objective about these kind of things. The face is…alright, Kanda supposes, some girls love the shit eating grin, with that unnatural hair colour and gleaming set of white teeth.

Well yeah his roommate is objectively attractive to a certain extent, but so what? Kanda's never jacked off to him and he wasn't going to start now. If he _had_ to jack off, it'd be to someone who actually has some skill with their hands instead of fucking teasing his nipples and maybe a tongue scraping down his neck and a low sexy murmuring of his first name—

Kanda snaps his eyes open in horror.

There's only one idiot in the world who insists on using his first name and it's not his dad and he just automatically played the voice in his head—fuck—he is so—

Fucked.

* * *

><p><span><em>Five hours earlier—3rd February 2014. 12: 04 a.m.<em>

When Kanda steps back into their room after his shower, he looks at the immovable lump on his bed and scowls. Great. Just fucking great that his roommate had to crash on his bed even though the other's bed is like, five fucking steps away. Their shared room is small with just two beds, two cabinets, two desks and two chairs along with all the other shit the redhead owns. Kanda doesn't own much except for the necessities and his kendo bokken. He doesn't even own any textbooks, unlike the other person who has his bed cluttered with old thick books, random crumped stacks of paper with illegible scrawled writing and several empty crisps packets.

Kanda is particular about the mess and within the first month they had established that the redhead was not going to live up to Kanda's standard of 'don't leave your fucking socks on the floor, you fucking lazy pig', so the compromise was that _some_ artistic mess could be made as long as it didn't cross over to Kanda's side of the room.

It also means that his bed, unlike the other person, actually has space for, you know, sleeping in. Kanda drapes his towel over a hanger and dumps his toiletries on the table, walking over. The redhead is sprawled out flat, mouth open, eye closed, eyepatch on the other eye still on.

Unmercifully he kicks at the other's leg.

"Oi."

"Oi. Asshole. Wake up."

"I said wake up."

The calm rise and fall of the redhead's chest doesn't falter in the slightest. Kanda clicks his tongue in annoyance.

He's tired from kendo practice and he needs to get up for an 8 a.m. class tomorrow. There's no space anywhere else in their room to sleep—they don't own a couch and he's definitely not roughing it out on the chair—except the floor. Maybe if he can be bothered, he can shove all the shit on the other's bed and take it instead. Alternatively, he can carry the idiot and dump him on own pile of hardcover books.

But the redhead is heavy—Kanda knows this from the numerous attempts in which the other has tried to get a piggyback ride from him (still falling) and the floor isn't carpeted and it's _hard_ and it's still winter and its _cold_ and fuck, Kanda is just going to sleep on his own damn bed.

It's his after all.

The idiot didn't even have the decency to leave some space for him, Kanda grumbles darkly, as he tries to roll the other to create some space and vaguely succeeds. Within two seconds he's flicked the lights off and is assertively trying to claim whatever space he can despite being pushed to the edge of the bed with his roommate's heavy weight against him.

Kanda rolls over to his side and blindly grabs the comforter, yanking it towards him. However, it doesn't reach enough to cover his arms.

Goddammit.

He yanks harder, and is rewarded with a muffled groan of protest. For a moment Kanda thinks the redhead has woken up, hallelujah, but no, the noise lapses into a soft snore. Some shuffling occurs and Kanda grumbles more to himself and—a-and what the fuck—hands are encircling his waist and a face is pressed into his back, complete with some intelligible muttering.

Shit, is he being _spooned_?

Holy fucking shit he _is_.

He should've known the idiot was a clinger in his sleep. The stupid ass is always hugging something in his damn sleep—all the times that Kanda has found him napping or dozing off, there's always a book or cereal box or a one litre coke bottle or that embarrassing (to Kanda) Asuna body pillow in his arms.

Kanda just wants to sleep, okay. He shuts his eyes and ignores the fact that it's actually more comfortable because the other is warm. Fucking blanket stealer, he mutters under his breath.

Mother fucking_ Lavi._

* * *

><p><strong><em>Fin.<em>**

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Initially I was going to write the aftermath but I'm lazy. Basically this whole 'Lavi accidentally sleeps on Kanda's bed' and 'Kanda refusing to sleep somewhere else and then promptly regrets it' escalates as exams draws near with stress and all and one time Kanda loses it and kisses Lavi. And then it continues since Lavi doesn't wake up but ONE DAY HE DOES when Kanda's indulging himself and both of them _freak the fuck out_

I'll leave the rest to your imagination. ;P


End file.
